


Delivering News

by TourmalineQueen



Category: Bedwyn Saga - Mary Balogh
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 05:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1376338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TourmalineQueen/pseuds/TourmalineQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christine is pregnant, and is nervous about informing her former brother-and-sister-in-law about that fact. Wulfric decides to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delivering News

  


**Bedwyn Fanfic**

**Title:** Delivering News

**Disclaimer:** I own the books, and the laptop on which this was written, but not the characters.

*-*-*

 

“You should eat something,” Wulfric ordered his wife over his morning paper. “Or you’ll faint over elevenses otherwise.”

They dined in the morning room of Bedwyn House in London, where they had decided to spend part of the Season, before Christine had to enter her confinement. Christine refused on principle to prevent her husband from performing the duties in Parliament that were so much a part of him, and she was not prepared to remain in Lindsey Hall all alone but for the servants. She smiled wanly at him, and set down her fork where she had been pushing her food aimlessly around her plate.

“I know, my darling, but my appetite seems to have deserted me this morning.”

Wulfric put his paper down, and reached out to clasp her hand, fondness and concern in his silver eyes. “There is no need for all this anxiety, you know. I am certain Hermione and Basil will be thrilled for you. And I have decided to go with you on your visit, to make sure.”

“Which will you do, Wulf? Make sure I don’t faint or that Basil and Hermione are pleased to see me?” Christine asked with a warmer smile, squeezing his fingers gently.

“Depending on whether or not you eat any breakfast, it could be both of those suggestions,” Wulfric chided gently.

Christine nodded, grimacing faintly. “I just feel a tad queasy again today, Wulf. I had thought the nausea had passed off weeks ago.”

“I see. Perhaps some light broth and tea, instead?” Wulfric asked, inclining his head to a footman who silently departed to pass the order to the kitchens.

“Yes, that sounds lovely. You’re so good to me.”

“I know,” Wulfric said, rising gracefully and dropping a kiss to her cheek. “I shall see you for luncheon and then we shall go visiting.”

*-*

Lunch time arrived, and Wulfric sat once more in the informal morning room, awaiting his wife’s company for the midday repast. She was rarely late, although over the last fortnight or so he had noticed that every so often, Christine would pause in the entry of a room, thinking, as though she had forgotten why she was in the room. It was possible that she had forgotten their lunch arrangements.

Frowning as the clock chimed a quarter past the hour Wulfric rose, his plate untouched, to seek out his wife. After searching unsuccessfully in Christine’s favourite places in the house; Wulfric finally reached their shared bedroom. Christine was sitting at her dressing table, her hair was still not coiffed (it was, however, beautifully tousled in Wulf’s private opinion but unsuitable for dining or public outings), and she was looking longingly at the bed.

“Christine? Are you quite well?” Wulfric asked.

“Hm?” Christine started slightly, and smiled at him as though she had expected him sooner. “Oh, Wulfric, there you are. I was just thinking how lovely it would be to get into bed and spend the remainder of the day there.”

“And thus avoid the visit to your relatives?” Wulfric asked shrewdly.

“Well… Perhaps that might be a small consequence of staying in bed all day. I wouldn’t have to be brave if we were in bed, though,” she said, smiling tightly.

Wulfric drew a breath and was about to speak when she turned with plaintive eyes.

“Wulfric, they were quick to believe the worst of me before, over my supposed flirting, and they hated me for such a long time when Oscar died; what if they hate me again for proving he was the one who was incapable?”

Wulfric blinked. Christine had been making quips and jokes about her worries since they had arrived in London the previous weeks, but this was the first time she had spoken seriously about her fears. He was taken aback by the pure sorrowful fear in her voice. He wasn’t entirely sure what to tell her.

“I am certain they will not hate you, my love. The business with Justin Magnus put that resentful grudge of theirs to rest,” he reminded her.

“True, but…” she trailed off, biting her lower lip and twisting a strand of hair around her finger.

“But?” Wulfric prompted.

“It was easy for them to hate me then, when I had done no wrong, Wulfric,” Christine whispered, eyes filling with tears. “It would be just as easy to hate me now, for I am here in front of them, an affront to their brother growing within me.”

Wulfric wrapped his arms around her and held her close. He breathed in the scent of her hair. She turned her head so her cheek rested against his shoulder.

“You have done **nothing wrong** ,” Wulfric growled. “Nothing, my love. You never wished impotence upon your first husband, did you?”

“No,” she sniffled. “I wanted to give him the family he deserved.”

“He had more than he deserved in you,” Wulf muttered. “Your family will be sensible enough to recognise good news when they hear it. And if they don’t, they will have to answer to me.”

Christine gave him a watery smile and pressed a kiss to his jaw. “In what way?”

“I will deliver a blistering set-down, and if need be, there will be pistols at dawn,” he said matter-of-factly.

It was the wrong thing to say, Wulfric knew, the minute the words left his mouth; he felt her stiffen in his arms. “Wulfric, no!”

“I did not mean that in the literal sense, dearest,” he said softly, dotting kisses around her cheeks and temples to soothe her upset. “I would not lose, but nor would I risk your seeing another loved one killed in a duel. I was merely stating that as the Duchess of Bewcastle, and particularly with me present to support you, nobody in their right minds would give you the cut direct. Or dare to express their unhappiness with our – or more to the point **your** \- wonderful news. There is no need for you to feel guilty, or afraid. If your sister- and brother-in-law have any sense at all, any unhappiness they may have will be concealed and they will remain perfectly civil over afternoon tea. And you will have no need to see them again if you do not wish it.”

He felt Christine nod against his shoulder. He tightened his arms around her, and slipped a hand down to caress the slight swell of her pregnancy through her sprigged muslin dress.

“It might be easy for them to be unhappy, but it will be even easier again for them to be thrilled for you. Besides which, **I** am thrilled that you are with child,” he said almost belligerently.

“I know you are. And so am I, dearest; I just don’t wish to be the bearer of painful tidings, especially when they have had such pain already, losing their beloved Oscar. I don’t want them to think that I did this a-purpose to wound them. Can you understand that?”

“In spite of being a man known for not giving a damn what anyone thinks, I do understand. And I would hope that they know it as well as I; for their sakes. I would also hope that they are cognizant enough to know that husbands who are incapable do not produce offspring, while husbands who are do so. Whether it is done intentionally or not, a celibate existence between man and wife is not something anyone who knows me could believe. Do **you** understand _that_?”

Christine laughed softly and kissed his jaw again. “Perhaps we might revisit the whole-day-in-bed idea, another time, darling husband.”

“Tomorrow,” Wulf said fervently. “Definitely; we will revisit this idea tomorrow.”

*-*

A short time later, after Wulfric had wolfed a short lunch, and Christine had waved her plate away, citing genuine queasiness, he handed her up into their best-sprung closed carriage. He climbed in and, rather than sitting opposite her, as was his wont, sat instead beside her, taking her hand and squeezing her fingers gently.

“I hope I don’t cast my accounts all over those beautiful hessians of yours,” Christine laughed weakly.

“Cast up over the Duke of Bewcastle? You wouldn’t dare,” Wulfric teased. He drew her against him, one arm lying along her neck, fingers ghosting through her curled locks. Christine closed her eyes, and dozed. She woke up as the carriage halted outside the London home of her sister-and-brother-in-law. Wulfric got out immediately, ordering her to remain, “while I discover whether they are accepting visitors.” He was gone before she could ask was that not the reason they had footmen with them.

The door had opened as the ducal carriage had halted before the steps. Wulfric made his way swiftly inside, and found Basil and Hermione already descending the central staircase on their way to greet the guests.

“I bear news. Your brother was incapable,” Wulfric said seriously and bluntly to Basil.

Basil stared at him silently for a moment, then began sputtering and blustering in incoherent outrage.

“I say so only because I have proved it so. I do not speak purely to offend,” Wulfric said impatiently.

Hermione’s eyes lit up and she charged down past the men, and out of doors. Wulfric stepped aside to let her pass by unhindered. He drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly, a trick his tutors had taught him to deal with surges of anger – losing one’s temper always meant losing one’s fight, he believed. Not that Basil’s righteous indignation was causing him to lose his temper, but it helped prevent his exasperation from showing.

“Your wife is pleased for us,” Wulfric noted lightly. “I state the news in the terms the _ton_ is likely to repeat, whether in or out of your earshot. I am sorry that Oscar was not … But neither am I unhappy to be the one to have proved that Christine was not barren. It was unfair to place blame upon her shoulders for her husband’s failings, just as it was unfair to blame her for Justin Magnus’ machinations,” he pointed out in a soft, dangerous tone of voice. “If you will excuse me, I believe I shall join the ladies at the carriage.”

He turned and walked calmly away from the enraged man, who sputtered and raged in the threshold of the fine townhouse, and made his way to the carriage. There, Wulfric saw, his wife and her sister-in-law were embracing and dancing around and laughing delightedly together like they were a pair of schoolgirls. His lips curved up in a proud half-smile; he was the one who had made Christine giddily happy, not anyone else in this world. Christine stopped her circular dance, and staggered slightly, a hand going to her temple even as she laughed breathlessly; Wulfric glided to her side and steadied her with one arm on her waist and one hand at the nape of her neck. She turned one of her brilliant smiles on him. It did things to his insides, that particular smile; that smile and the fact that it was directed at him alone.

“Is it not the most wondrous thing, Hermione? Wulfric has ended my barrenness!” Christine giggled giddily, as she leant more closely against him.

“I can hardly claim credit for your first husband’s shortcomings, dearest,” Wulfric murmured, feeling at once oddly prideful and faintly embarrassed by her exuberance.

“Hush, man, your wife thinks you worked a miracle; do not disabuse her,” came Basil’s gruff voice behind them.

Christine immediately ran to him and threw her arms about his neck. “You **_are_** pleased for me; Wulfric said you would be, but I was so afraid you would be hurt by the implications for poor Oscar,” she said. “But I wished that you hear the news from us; I believe there has been enough wrongly interpreted gossip taken as gospel; we are sure that I am carrying, and we are now making it public knowledge. Basil do you think Oscar would be hurt if he knew?”

“Well, he wouldn’t have known what to do with an heir, any rate,” Basil muttered. “Shall we adjourn indoors? I believe we have given the neighbours at least a months’ worth of gossip in just these past few minutes.”

The happy party walked up the front steps together.

*-*-*

The afternoon tea had gone on almost until dinnertime, at which point Wulfric noticed Christine’s sleepy countenance. They were offered more hospitality, but Wulfric graciously declined. “I believe my wife’s current occupation exhausts her enough that she would be more likely to plant her face in the food than eat it,” he said with a fond look at his yawning wife.

“I am sorry, but I really find it difficult to keep my eyes open much later than this,” Christine said wryly, in between yawns.

Basil nodded, “We understand, dear one. Safe home and all that, and do make sure to call on us again. Bewcastle, I will see you in Parliament.”

Wulfric slid an arm under Christine’s knees and behind her shoulders, and lifted her easily into his arms. She gave a small yelp of surprise, and laughed at herself. “I should be used to this by now,” she joked.

Wulfric carried her out the doors and down the steps, and carefully into the carriage, in spite of her protests that she could walk herself.

“I know you can walk. I also know that I can carry you, and I prefer the latter.”

“And I hope you know how much I love you,” Christine whispered as the carriage lurched into motion.

He kissed her temple softly and rested his chin atop her head. “I know perfectly well, my love.”

“Thank you for this day, Wulfric, and thank you for helping me to be brave.”

“You were brave enough without me,” Wulfric tried to deflect her gratitude. “I was merely stubborn enough to ensure you did not procrastinate.”

“Let’s stay in bed when we get home, Wulf, all night and all day,” Christine mumbled softly against his shoulder as the sleepiness reclaimed her.

“I think I will find that more than acceptable,” Wulfric said into her hair.

Christine gave a sleepy start. “But you must attend the House tomorrow,” she said sounding terribly disappointed.

“The House may go hang if it cannot do without me for a day or two,” Wulfric said, with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Oh, good."  
  
He tilted his head awkwardly and kissed her softly on the lips. "We can begin as soon as we are ready, my love," he whispered against her lips.  
  
Christine responded by mumbling sleepy sounds and snuggling closer against him.  
  
Yes, he thought, smiling even in frustration, tomorrow would definitely be worth waiting for.

*-*-*

  



End file.
